


Start

by StAnni



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 23:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18766336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: They just started this and, very much like most  of Quentin’s endeavors he sort of just blindly pressed forward with it.  They’ve only been living together for a little more than a month and with Margo just having returned to Fillory they don’t have the convenience of a buffer anymore.





	Start

“You’re pretty late.” Eliot says, unpacking the last of the plates from the dishwasher and Quentin drops his bag on the kitchen counter, rolling his shoulder against the ache that has grown almost unbearable on the way back from the university.   
“I had a meeting with a student” he explains and goes to the fridge, taking out a beer and offering one to Eliot who shakes his head slightly.  
Off Eliot’s silence he apologizes “Sorry, I forgot to phone.” And Eliot shrugs, clearly still irritated but the warmth creeping back into his voice. “It’s fine.”

They just started this and, very much like most of Quentin’s endeavors he sort of just blindly pressed forward with it. They’ve only been living together for a little more than a month and with Margo just having returned to Fillory they don’t have the convenience of a buffer anymore.

“How was work?” Quentin asks, more out of just being polite than a genuine interest. Eliot’s talks about investments and finance (even with the magical aspects) bore the living soul right out of him but he waits with feign curiosity for Eliot’s answer. Eliot, glancing at him as he closes the cabinet, chuckles immediately and shakes his head, leaning against the counter. “You’re a good boyfriend. I won’t do that to you again.”

They haven’t really said it yet, and hearing Eliot say the word “boyfriend” sends a short jolt right through his body. It could be excitement or panic – but it feels like a light switch is flipped inside.

Eliot smiles at what must have been his micro-expression and gently squeezes his shoulder before he walks out. “Okay, chill, Q.”

In the living room, which is small but tastefully arranged (solely thanks to Eliot) he watches as Eliot stretch languidly and sit on the couch – tapping the space next to him. When he goes to sit it is so easy, almost muscle memory, to sink against Eliot’s chest and feel his strong arm, warm and firm, pull him in by the shoulder.

“Any word from Margo?” He asks and can feel the soft shake of Eliot’s head – no. “Probably just busy with Josh.” Quentin says and to that he feels Eliot chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Julia may be coming over tomorrow” Quentin continues, closing his eyes in pleasure to Eliot’s gentle kneading of his shoulder. “Oh, nice.” Eliot says quietly, his chin brushing against Quentin’s lashes. After a moment Quentin raises his hand to Eliot’s on his shoulder and links his fingers there. “Thank you for doing the dishes.” He says, remembering that he promised to get to it before he left in the morning, and Eliot rubs his thumb with his own. “No sweat.”

There is a short silence and Eliot clears his throat in his quiet way so Quentin looks up at him – his dark eyes soft. “We’ll get the hang of this again.” He says and Quentin feels a guilty prick at his heart – he never meant for Eliot to feel insecure. “Yeah, no of course, El.”

The kiss is warm and it brings with it the wash, that always comes with it, of memory, relief, regret and final flow of happiness. This is the right thing. This, right here, is the right thing.

As if Eliot can read his mind, or is somehow tapped right into his emotional current, Eliot deepens the kiss, a firm hand curling around the back of his neck and in a moment the world is reduced to the sweet and silky wetness of Eliot’s mouth. As it usually happens, their libidos are way, way ahead of the game and without even really thinking of it Quentin has his hand softly rubbing the hard bulge at Eliot’s crotch.

“We really should, you know, make some time to talk.” Eliot tries, between kisses and Quentin nods, solemnly – because they really should.

The kiss heats up, gets sloppy, with nips and their breathing growing heavier. Quentin can start to feel a small wet spot forming against the martial of Eliot’s slacks, right where the hard tip of his cock is pressing up against it and it sends a new flood of lust right to his own cock, jerking involuntarily against Eliot’s palm on his jeans. 

“Penny cannot catch us again.” Quentin worries as their kisses grow hungrier and Eliot unzips his fly deftly, his warm fingers firmly curling around Quentin’s erection.

Penny’s embarrassed “Whoa! Fuck! Sorry!” at porting straight into their living room as Quentin was groaning as Eliot sucked him down on the couch was not something that Quentin necessarily wanted to relive. 

Eliot smirks into the next kiss but nods, taking his grip off Quentin’s cock and pulling him almost roughly up by the arm as he gets up himself. 

As they fumble into the guest bedroom, being the nearest one, Eliot pulls back again, flushed and eyes dark with lust, but trying to compose himself “But really, Q, we should talk… you know… later…”  
Quentin grabs impatiently at the softly curly nape of Eliot’s neck and swallows his concern in another ravenous kiss, because yeah, they really, really should talk, but yeah, later.

As soon as his shirt is off Eliot bites into his shoulder and Quentin’s hips press into Eliot’s cupped hand involuntarily as Quentin rips at Eliot’s buttons, sending a few flying. “Careful, asshole.” Eliot laughs and he shoves Quentin down on the bed where Quentin quickly shimmies his jeans down to his thighs and rolls over into a kneeling position. Eliot, behind him, runs a warm hand down his spine and Quentin can hear the delicious sound of Eliot’s belt unbuckling.

Eliot has his kinks and Quentin has his own, but the one thing they both love is clothed and semi-clothed sex. And really, it just comes down to good practice for instances where they are not able to get fully undressed.

As Eliot unzips Quentin quickly casts a spell slicking him up and Eliot, humming with approval slides two fingers deep into Quentin without warning. Quentin knows that Eliot likes it when he moans, arches his back, curse – so he does all three in a heady combination that has Eliot whispering “Fuck, yes, baby” behind him in satisfaction.

He lets Eliot open him up, slow and deep – free hand on the small of his back, holding him down. Eliot is tall and actually pretty strong and, as they have found during their more aggressive play, he has no problem with manhandling Quentin into submission. After a while Quentin can’t wait any longer and breathes out a gravelly “Okay, okay, fuck, I’m ready.” and grips the sheets, bracing for Eliot’s hard and thorough slide into him, stretching him open in one slow, firm thrust. When his balls press warmly against Eliot’s ass he is doubled over Quentin, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he presses into the mattress next to Eliot’s grip on the bedspread. His voice is harsh, raw and so honest that it folds around Quentin’s heart – even in this state – “I’ll never get enough of you.”

This time they are both cloying, almost desperate for every touch, biting and licking and gripping against each other. When Eliot turns Quentin around, pressing his knees wide apart and sliding inside, missionary, close and hot all over, Quentin grabs him by the neck, moves against his thrusts with abandon, chasing his own orgasm. Eliot bites his lower lip as he comes, keeping the rhythm, semen trickling down Quentin’s leg and Quentin with a firm grip on his own cock rides Eliot’s stuttering rhythm as long as he can and finally gives a grateful moan when Eliot pulls away, sucks him into his mouth and finishes him off.

The afterglow lasts for a good half an hour and when he sits up, a sticky mess, Eliot catches his hand and with a smile teases “Tell me you’re going to make your boyfriend a drink.” To which he slaps Eliot’s thigh, “Tell my boyfriend to run a shower so long.”


End file.
